


Slow And Steady

by WonderTwinC



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take courage, my heart: you have been through worse than this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a safe place

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been wanting to write something for LOTR/The Hobbit. I’ve been swimming in feels for weeks now but this only came about after I started something last night. This is going to be a small series surrounding Bilbo and Thorin.
> 
> Prompt: "Sanctuary- a small safe place in a troubling world."

He would look out his window every now and then to see his great tree and remember. He would recall the perils of his journey and the items hidden away in his room in an oak trunk at the foot of his bed. He would then see the lush green leaves that resided on his acorn tree and remember the vastness of the world beyond his shire, beyond his wildest imagination…

Then he would see _that_ place.

The room was cold and the air was stale. No breeze reached this far nor any light. This was a place not meant for life like the world above and yet here he was. His chain mail bit into the small of his back as he sat there in that place, resting against a tomb of rock buried beneath the earth.

In times of trouble or strife, in heartache or great joy, Bilbo would remember that vast space beneath the heart of the mountain where his King was buried next to his kin. He would remember slipping his handkerchief with the letters B.B. embroidered in nice, flowing script under the pommel of Orcrist so it rested against Thorin’s hand. It was as close as he would ever again be to his greatest friend.

He returned to himself with a quiet, shuddering breath and where before there had been uncertainty on his face he was left with a gentle smile. Remembering always brought with it a great and heavy sadness, yet beneath that feeling there was a peace that Bilbo had never known before in all of his life.

He doubted that he would ever know it again.


	2. a gentle memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We may miss things that are of sight, but they are never out of mind.

He wished he still had it.

Sitting in the warmth of the sun, surrounded by the merry elves of Rivendell, Bilbo longed for the shirt of mithril he’d sent away with his nephew. He could imagine the way it would feel in his hands if he’d had it, the cool of the metal against his warm fingers. The gentle weight of it no more than a shirt of linen.

How precious it had been to him all these years.

Even while it rested in a museum he’d not forgotten about it. Indeed, his first thought upon the mention of travel had been to reclaim it as his once more. He did not regret passing his treasures onto his nephew,however. It was only that having held it made him nostalgic.

Bilbo missed what he’d left behind or given freely. His acorn tree that rested at the helm of his garden in the Shire. Sting and his mail made of mithril. Perhaps even some part of him longed for his Ring, but at the moment that part was small and smothered by other things.

Oh, how he wished Thorin were with him, and not for the first time. He missed his grizzly friend while sitting here amongst the joyous elves of Elrond’s court.

Bilbo closed his eyes against the setting sun and inhaled deeply, letting his memories of home and hearth and friends carry him where they would.


	3. for home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holding on until your hands hurt.

Bilbo wept- large tears that rolled down his cheeks and soaked his tattered shirt. He sobbed until his chest burned with the effort of breathing and his eyes felt sore. His face was much too warm by the time he was finished, shoving any subsequent tears back with the hands pressed tight to his mouth. Each hiccuping breath burning his throat even more.  

_"What do you cry for, Master Burgler?"_

His vision blurred. His head pounded with his upset. His blistered and broken fingers tightened around the acorn in his grasp.

” _Home_ ,” Bilbo whispered, his voice breaking as he answered the one inside his head. “I cry for home.”

He scrubbed at his face with one dirty sleeve, leaving mud and grime behind on wet cheeks.

"I- I am so, so sorry my dear friend-" Bilbo choked on the words, feeling the hot spill of tears roll down his cheeks once more.

"I am so sorry."


	4. unbent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is sadder than seeing someone you thought unbreakable broken

"I had no right to drag you into such peril," Thorin whispered. “No right at all.”

Orcrist lay forgotten and buried inside of Azog. String was to their right with it's brilliant blue light fading . The enemy was vanquished. Thorin had avenged his family and won back his precious mountain.

 _But at what cost?_ The King Under The Mountain thought to himself in despair.

Thorin cradled Bilbo’s head in his large hands. The hobbit's hand trembled with the effort to raise it enough to pat Thorin on the leg. Once, twice. Bilbo's hand fell back to the freezing ice beneath them. “Nonsense, Thorin-” his hobbit struggled for each half-breath, but his voice was so clear. Steady. “I am glad… to have shared in your perils.”

The dwarf wanted to rage. To fight. To tear down Orc after Orc, but he could not… would not leave Bilbo to die alone. The Hobbit deserved more than that. More than this, by far.

Thorin's fingers trembled. Tears fell from his eyes and landed on the hobbit’s face, clearing tiny tracks of grime from his cheeks.

His chest ached from his grief.

"I'm so sorry I let this happen to you, my dear Master Burglar."

A laugh bubbled in the hobbit’s chest (or perhaps it was a sob). For a second his eyes were wide enough to take in the world and then they were dim and almost lifeless. Bilbo’s fingers twitched, itching to raise to the sky once more. “Look, Thorin… the Eagles… the Eagles are here…” his voice faded to a whisper. Then to nothing at all.

And Bilbo Baggins was no more.


	5. demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is certain in his estimate of Thorin's character.

"They're wrong, you know."

Bilbo fidgets in the dim lighting of the moon, staring uncertainly at the broad back of Thorin Oakenshield. A long suffering sigh escapes the dwarf prince. "Master Bag-"

"N-no. They're wrong about you."

Thorin twists just enough to look over his shoulder at Bilbo, his dark eyes piercing in the dark.

Bilbo straightens his posture without thought, his fingers falling still in front of him. He clears his throat, tripping over his words. "You're not- you're not like them. You won't succumb to it."

"You cannot know that for sure," Thorin whispers. "Both my father and his father before him suffered from it- and for it. You can-"

"No," his voice is sharp but soft, cutting through the air, silencing Thorin who feels his eyes widen slightly. Bilbo stands a little taller now. He is certain in his estimate of Thorin's character. "I know- I know we haven't been traveling together for very long but I- I _know_ that you won't, Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo lets out a long held breath. "I promise that you won't."

The rest of his statement goes unspoken, but the way in which Thorin stares at him makes the hobbit certain that the dwarf prince knows.

_I won't let you._


	6. a wish your heart makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nepenthe: something that can make you forget grief or suffering."

A warmth burst throughout Bilbo's chest - curling it's way down to his feet. It spread up his neck and to his cheeks as he stood in the hall of his hobbit hole. The comforts of home suited Thorin, he thought to himself. The dwarf looked at home in a plush chair with a book in his lap and a fire roaring away in the hearth. He looked content.

Bilbo smiled. A small, twitching sort of smile.

Another plush chair sat across from Thorin's, this one a tad smaller but no less comfortable. A stool rested at the foot of the smaller seat and on the stool was a large leather bound book. Hand-made. It was open on a half-finished page.

Something about the book tugged at Bilbo, urging him to stay where he was. To stay in the doorway with a small cup of tea in both hands, his eyes shining brighter than any smile.

Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to call out to Thorin- to tease the King for his choice of reading glasses- but no sound came out. Instead he choked on the words, both cups slipping from his fingers to crash at his feet. They didn’t shatter and Thorin did not turn at the sound.

 _It's a dream,_ Bilbo realized. _This is all a dream._

But oh, what a wonderful dream it was.

"Uncle- Uncle wake up-" small hands pressed to his somewhat weathered face, patting his cheeks with such care. The dream slipped out of his reach. Thorin's face blurred until it disappeared, replaced with a blinding light.

Bilbo opened his eyes- and found a face pressed quite close to his own. A set of startling blue eyes returned his gaze. Blurred though his face was from proximity, his nephew offered a radiant smile.

"You're awake," Frodo stated. He patted Bilbo's cheeks once more and then shifted his weight to settle back on his knees. He was perched like a bird in Bilbo's lap. "I'm to come fetch you for the fair."

The fair, of course. Bilbo'd all but forgotten about it.

Rubbing at his face, he patted the top of Frodo's head. "It's a good thing I have you around, my dear nephew."

The young boy grinned, bright as the sun. With a gentle push, Frodo slid back to his feet in order to let his Uncle stretch and stand. Bilbo was still in his prime- but he felt much, much older.

As old as one could feel after living an adventure in the great wild world.

Bilbo was hardly dressed for an outing but it didn't matter. They all thought him a crazy fool to begin with. He doubt his manner of dress would change their minds now.

"We best be off, then," he said and reached for Frodo's smaller hand. Bilbo felt a soft arch in his chest as he glanced over the boy's head into his living room.

There was an obvious lack of any other presence in his small home. A single chair rested before the unused fireplace. There was no leather bound book- no tea.

Yet the memory of the dream warmed Bilbo like nothing else. It filled his chest and wrapped around his aching heart. It made a smile tug at his lips with no purpose. He clung to them - the warmth and the dream - and squeezed his nephew's hand.

Perhaps a change of clothes would be permitted.

 

 


	7. a distorted memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then my soul saw you and it kind of went ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you’.”

_"One day it will grow... and every time I look at it I'll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good-the bad. And how lucky I am that I made it home."_

_And then Thorin was smiling at him. It was a gentle smile that Bilbo had only glimpsed once before on a cold mountain top, but it warmed his heart in such a fierce way. It was as though Smaug had breathed fire into his chest and he'd survived. The heat of it should have melted his bones but instead it made him brave._

_Bilbo laughed. It was a soft exhalation of air that twisted into a small, fleeting smile. His fingers curled tight around the small acorn he still held. The warmth in his chest urged him forward and the hobbit obliged, looking up at the King Under The Mountain._

_"Thorin, I-" he stumbled, a jumble of emotions clogging his throat. But it was no matter. Thorin strode forward, closing the small space between them until his heavy boots pressed timidly against Bilbo's toes._

_For a moment, Bilbo was half afraid Thorin knew his secret- the Arkenstone tucked tight to his chest- but then calloused hands were grabbing him and hauling him forward into a crushing embrace. Thorin held the hobbit up off the ground with his strength, his arms wrapped tight around the smaller man. His face pressed to the top of Bilbo's unruly hair._

_It was unfortunate that Bilbo was unable to hug back. His arms were pinned against his sides in the tight circle of Thorin's arms.  The hobbit made do. He buried  his face against the dwarf king's chest and breathed in. The scent of earth and rock and something else clung heavily to Thorin and his clothes._

_Bilbo's eyes watered because it smelled like home._

_"Master Baggins-" the dwarf king cleared his throat, his beard scratching against Bilbo's face as he spoke, "if there is anything you would have of me- just ask and it shall be yours."_

_The hobbit could only think of a single thing._

_"Your friendship. That is all I will ever ask of you, Thorin Oakenshield."_

Bilbo's quill paused over the wrinkled parchment of his book- ink dripping onto the page in his hesitation. It took him a moment, a long moment, to realize that the memory was not as it had been.

Even now, sixty years after, he remembered the stuttering words he had tried to use to tell Thorin about the Arkenstone. He had been interrupted then, too. Dwalin had intercepted them with news of survivors flooding into Dale. There had been no hug. No words of friendship.

"Oh, that won't do!" said Bilbo. "Books ought to have good endings. How would this do: and  _they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?_ "


	8. small comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know you’re heading towards the right path when your soul is uplifted and floating, while your heart smiles."

Small comforts of home suited Bilbo Baggins and as such his favorite place to be was the garden right outside his front door. He would go out in the early morning and puff on his pipe and think of nothing at all or about everything all at once. His fingers drummed absent minded along his knee in a rhythm all their own as he exhaled rings of smoke into the summer sun.

Down below within his eyesight was his nephew, scrambling around with two of the worst troublemakers in Hobbiton. Meriadoc and Peregrin were loud enough to be heard up the hill, hooting and laughing in their fun. Samwise stood off to the side and watched as he often did. His eyes rarely left Frodo - as though he were waiting for the other hobbit to need his assistance.

It was a familiar scene to Bilbo and one that warmed his heart. He had no children of his own, but Frodo was as good as his and Samwise meant a great deal to him as well. _If only all mornings could be like this_ , he thought with a soft sigh.

"Uncle!" Frodo's voice floated up to distract Bilbo from his thoughts. His nephew was standing on a stump and waving his arms. Even from such a distance, he could see the grin that broke wide over the young boy's features.

Expelling a smoke ring, Bilbo leaned forward and cleared his throat. "How may I be of service, my dear Frodo?"

"Come join us!" Meriadoc called from the left of Frodo, rocking back and forth on his rather large feet. To his left Peregrin nodded vigorously, bouncing up and down on his heels. Even Samwise seemed to be smiling a soft sort of smile for encouragement.

Bilbo tapped his pipe against the leg of his bench and hummed thoughtfully. It took him only a moment to decide. He was not so young as he'd once been but he wasn't as old as he could be, either.

His fingers slipped into his coat pocket, brushing against the golden ring that rested there. Warmth invaded his bones and he stood, remembering belatedly to leave his pipe behind before he started out his gate and down the hill.

Perhaps it was time, he mused, of going on one last journey to visit his friends in the north.

After all, he was only one-hundred and ten.

He still had some adventuring left in him.

 


	9. what kind of friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically somewhat of a fix-it chapter.

It was just past elevenses when they arrived; all three of them. Bilbo had just finished setting the table for company when he heard them right outside his front door. Somehow he found the strength to be not surprised. The youngest 0f the three flung open his green door with a wide grin stretched from ear to ear. "Master Boggins!"

Kili strode into the room with Fili just behind him. Their weapons clamored to the floor in a tangled mess as they rushed into his dining room. Kili was the first to sweep him off his feet in the tightest of hugs. Bilbo laughed despite his damp cheeks and gave as good as he got. "I would say I'm surprised to see you so early but-" he squeezed harder, laughing to cover his tears, "I could hear you all a mile away."

"It's because Fi makes all that ruckus," Kili accused, placing Bilbo back on his feet with the greatest of care.  Fili's hug was more gentle but no less fierce as he bent to the hobbit's level.

He cast his eyes over Bilbo's shoulder and huffed. "Yes, well - Kili was the one that almost broke your gate."

"Not so-" Kili rebuked with a snort.

The dark shadow cleared his throat. One-hundred years of age and Bilbo still found things that delighted him. The sight of the third guest as one. The dwarf's braids were much the same as the last time. His clothes, however, were of finer quality. That of a King instead of a Prince.

Bilbo grinned. "Thorin."

"Bilbo," Thorin tilted his head in greeting.

The hobbit made to contain his joy but could not. His smile was large enough to cause an ache in his cheeks. Thorin let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh.

It took another gruff clearing of his throat for Fili to remember to set Bilbo down.

The hobbit could not dampen his smile nor keep the relief from his voice. "You're just in time for Elevenses."

\---

"I'm saddened that the others were not able to make it."

Thorin slid onto the bench beside Bilbo, casting his eyes toward the fields below. They were little more than blurred figures at such a distance but his eyes were well enough that he could see them - Fili and Kili.

And Frodo.

They were running around in reckless abandon doing only Eru knows what.

His attention slid back to the hobbit at his side. "If you ever wish to come visit, I know of twelve dwarves that would be eager for the chance." Here his expression twisted just the slightest. "And perhaps one elf."

Bilbo could not help his laugh at the look of distaste Thorin wore. "I would like the chance to see them all as well. Tauriel included."

"Of course you would," Thorin grumped with a surly glare in the hobbit's direction. Bilbo wondered if he would ever come to enjoy the elves company like the other's did.

Probably not.

"I'm glad you were able to come," Bilbo added, "you and your sister's sons."

At that Thorin rolled his eyes in a huff, "And what sort of friend would I be if I missed your one-hundred and first birthday party, Master Burglar?"

In the distance Bilbo watched as Kili swung Frodo up over his shoulder and Fili gave chase. It warmed his heart beyond measure.

"A poor friend," he whispered. Thorin rested one hand on Bilbo's shoulder and squeezed.

The hobbit smiled. "A poor friend, indeed."

 


	10. second chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to write these two together and so, I did.

When Bilbo awoke, little time had passed. The fire was burning low and he blinked in the dim lighting, glancing about. He was surrounded by various lumps, all the dwarves still sleeping curled up in their things. Somewhere off to his right, someone was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Fortunately, he'd only managed to wake Bilbo.

The hobbit stretched and groaned and pushed off the coat draped around him.  The chill in the air nipped at his skin uncomfortably as he sat up, squinting in the darkness. His eyes traced out each dark lump surrounding him until he was at the end- and short one dwarf.

Bilbo scratched his head as he started to recount.

Sure enough, only twelve dwarves were present.

Humming beneath his breath, Bilbo cast his eyes about until he found what he was looking for. A dark, huddled shadow just at the mouth of the cave - half hidden in the shade of a rock.

He clambered to his feet quietly as he could manage - rubbing at his arms for warmth as he picked his away around the others. He stepped over Fili and almost tripped on Kili. Bilbo managed not to fall on top of Thorin after stumbling over Dwalin. He continued on in this manner until he stepped over Gloin and tip toed to the entrance of the cave.

Bilbo stepped up beside Balin and almost stumbled back when the dwarf made to reach for his sword. He made a somewhat undignified sound as he scrambled to put distance between them. Bilbo watched as Balin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

The hobbit choked out an apology, "Sorry, I suppose I'm much quieter than I give myself credit for."

"It'll save your life one day, Master Bilbo," Balin replied with a smile. There was room enough beside the dwarf for Bilbo and so he sat down and huddled close, for warmth and for friendship.

Balin had been so very kind to him when others had yet to truly accept him.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, tilting his head as he looked up at Balin.

The dwarf shook his head. "I have a habit of waking before the sun and it'll be here soon enough." He chuckled, glancing down at Bilbo. "And yourself?"

Bilbo shrugged his shoulders and smiled, "I think I woke from the loud snoring."

Balin's smile spread across his face and he nodded, gesturing back with a hand. "That would be Bombur."

"Ah," Bilbo replied, snorting out a laugh.

They shared in the simplicity of the moment and the small bit of laughter it brought. Bilbo wasn't sure how much time had passed before he yawned, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to stifle the sound.

Beside him, Balin smiled benignly and rested his hand on Bilbo's arm. The hobbit stared in bemusement, "Master Balin?"

"The lot of them may never say it, Bilbo- but we are happy you chose to come with us."

He squeezed Bilbo's bicep in the lightest of grips.

_"All of us."_

Bilbo felt his lips twist into a smile as he rose. He tilted his head in Balin's direction and spoke, "Goodnight, Master Balin."

The dwarf smiled in return, "Goodnight, Master Bilbo."

And then Bilbo turned and took in the sight of the sleeping dwarves as he had not before.


End file.
